Elissa
by MidnightObsession
Summary: Torn from her home and tasked with saving Ferelden, Elissa Cousland appears to be the epitome of the word 'heroine'. That is, until she starts talking. Spoilt, arrogant and out of her comfort zone: suddenly, Elissa doesn't seem quite so perfect...


**AN: **And so we begin 'Elissa' once more. Yes, I'm back and yes, this story will be completed. I was unhappy with the first few chapters so here is the rewrite/continuation of the story. There is less focus on Alistair for a reason, and sorry if you dislike the tense I've used- we'll be back to normal in the first chapter :) Italics are used as these are essentially flashbacks for the most part, and as always, feedback is appreciated, and I own nothing. Enjoy!

* * *

**Prologue: Children **

_Then in the centre of heaven  
He called forth  
A city with towers of gold,  
streets with music for cobblestones,  
And banners which flew without wind.  
There, He dwelled, waiting  
To see the wonders  
His children would create._

_-Threnodies 5:2_

xxx_  
_

Elissa

_She is a child still, a pudgy faced baby of just one year. The images that flash before her are hazy- her mother, father, brother and her home. All of them speak to her; everything surrounding her breathes her name with a soft, loving tone that causes her to smile despite her inability to understand: 'Lady Elissa Cousland'. The words repeat themselves again and again, burning her name and status into her memory from birth._

x_  
_

_Lady Elissa Cousland. Eight winters have now passed since her birth and she is caught between childish fantasies and adult politics. She races down a stone corridor; her pounding footsteps echoing her elevating heartbeat as she grips, twists and raises her heavy skirts- mature garments, still too long and noble for one so carefree. Elissa knows she should feel constricted, trapped and for a moment she does- her breathing intensifies and her pace becomes a desperate dash for survival. She runs blindly, and closes her eyes tightly against the fear and is only comforted when those dreadful, gorgeous skirts cause her to trip into the arms of a red haired squire._

x_  
_

_She is known as the beauty of Highever- at sixteen years old, Elissa fends off her suitors and hides in the stables. Her nervous movements startle a lone horse, and the noise attracts a knight- her knight. She beckons him over with a gesture and a whisper and as he sits down next to her, she laces her fingers through his. The mood between the two shifts and tears start to run from Elissa's hard, stubborn eyes. Her knight embraces her, listening quietly to her jumbled words and her fierce promises of a future that cannot be. _

x_  
_

_Elissa reaches eighteen years of age, and during the celebrations her father draws her aside. Instead of returning to her festivities, she plays mother to a mabari pup, cuddling and comforting the forlorn creature. She ignores the muck that now covers her dress, and she sits on the cold ground whilst soothing the dog. In a childish, half-hearted attempt to calm him, she lifts the pup and stares into his eyes. They both fall silent. When they finally tear themselves away from each other, a smile graces Elissa's face and she begins to tell her mabari about his duty and loyalties. He is to be her protector, she tells him, and the pup yelps once in answer, content in his mistress' arms._

xxx

Alistair

_He does not think things should be like this. In the picture books he steals from the Arl, the ending is the happy part, not the beginning. Where did things go wrong? The Orlesian has thrown him to the dogs. Now, the mabari play the part of his parents and his bed is a pile of dirty straw. The stable is cold and dark; the lack of light terrifies him. Before, when the castle was his home, a candle always remained lit whilst he slept. He tries to comfort himself with thoughts of better days, and his already calloused hands clutch at the amulet around his neck. He wants to cry, he desperately wants to scream and announce his pain to the world. But he cannot. Instead, the King's young bastard curls up against a mabari and sobs quietly into its fur._

x_  
_

_His anger consumes him. He pushes the pain away, until all that remains is a dull ache and instead he allows his cold aggressive to overwhelm him. Alistair __Theirin settles his face into an expressionless mask and he does not look back as he walks into the Chantry. His only regret is the shattered amulet that lies in piece back at Redcliffe; the heavy weight of his mother's trinket is gone, and he only realises his mistake when he unconsciously reaches for its comforting feel.  
Then the pain returns._

x_  
_

_His saviour appears when he has almost given up hope. After years of nothingness, a purpose emerges and Alistair Theirin finds himself conscripted. At first he is cautious around the other Wardens- but in them, he finds a surrogate family. Yet despite his happiness, a small voice pesters him, and tells him it is all too good to be true._

xxx_  
_

Darkspawn

_Stomp, stomp, stomp.  
The song, can you hear it? The beautiful calling echoes our footsteps; it is our drumbeat, our rhythm, our life. It is dark now, but soon it will be light. Soon we will find him, our beloved master. They think to thwart us as they have done before, but we will not stop. Not whilst the hymn, that painful, pretty noise burns in our minds. We are many they are few; our enemies will fall beneath our blades. They think to keep us from our holy Urthemiel._

_Stomp, stomp, stomp.  
The taint, can you taste it? It is our fire, strength and weapon. The poison courses through our veins: it fills our blood until all we can taste is toxin. It tastes sweet. We savour it as we savour the kill. We live to fight, to fight for our God and His music. _

_Stomp, stomp, stomp.  
The ecstasy, can you feel it? We grow near and do not falter in the darkness. The music is swelling and the tempo increases; obediently we march as we near our goal. They think to challenge us, some of the invaders to our Deep Roads. But we live to kill and cannot be stopped._

_We are many they are few; our enemies will fall beneath our blades. They think to keep us from our holy Urthemiel.  
But we have found our God.  
We begin to fill Him with our taint and we are rewarded with a new chorus of our song.  
It begins._


End file.
